Acnologia's Past
by Pepin-Bones
Summary: We all may have an idea of what happened to Acnologia when he was younger, that one event that made it so easy for him to turn against the dragons later. This is my take on it with some creative freedom, thanks to Week 1 of Fairy Fest and the writing prompt: Acnologia's Past.


_A/N: It's that time of year again! Fairy Fest (on DeviantArt) is on! This is my solo entry for week 1 with the writing prompt, Acnologia's Past._

Screams. The screams were the worst. The shrieks and shrill, piercing cries echo through his mind, rattling around between his ears as though they will never go away; reverberating through his very soul to the point that his hands shake, his mouth going dry, and his eyes finding it difficult to focus. Heavy booms crash through the air as buildings explode and trees are leveled. His ears ring so loudly, he _shouldn't_ be able to hear the cries of the dying, and yet he can. Gusts of wind from collapsing dwellings rush through his long, dark blue hair; lashing it across his face unnoticed as his eyes stare at his surroundings in utter disbelief. Shock is evident on his young face as his mouth hangs open, his green eyes wide as he takes in the sheer amount of destruction around him.

It had happened so suddenly, without any warning. The small mountain town of Hyla was quiet in the afternoon sun as young children played or fished, mothers did laundry and looked after the young ones, and fathers went hunting, worked in the mines, or prepared to go off on other business. There was nothing to indicate that in a few short moments, their lives would forever be changed, if not snuffed out completely – all but one.

The boy known as Acnologia was no different than the others, except for his long, dark blue hair and startling blue markings that adorned his upper body, torso, and face. He was a sweet boy, an innocent boy who helped out when needed and cared for his fellow villagers. An only child, he took on the role of older brother to many of the younger children while still looking up to those older than him himself. It was because of this trait - his blossoming sense of leadership – that he took it upon himself to travel to the caves in search of a particular bait for the fish. The neurax worm only lived in the cave and could only be coaxed out of hiding at midday – often when the heat was near its highest. This worm would cause a world of difference to the young man.

As Acnologia's thoughts race back to only moments before, he quickly realizes that he can't afford to stand and gawk, as another angry roar rips through the air above him, making him crouch low and cover his ears with his hands. The previously collected worms fall from his hands, the glass jar shattering at his feet. His lips pull back in a grimace and he bolts as the beast in the sky turns, heading towards him. Did it see him? Was it headed his way? There's no time to look, no time to pause and think, as he dashes for cover, jumping over crumbling walls and uprooted trees as he frantically searches for a place to hide. Around him, the air grows eerily still and quiet, which makes his heart plummet into his belly, as the dragon swoops low overhead. He can _hear_ the wind whistling across its wings just before the enormous gray beast lands roughly before him, shaking the ground with such force that he loses his footing, and turns. He sees the tail coming at him when it's already too late.

A tail as thick as a tree trunk hits him square in the gut, rushing the air from his lungs as his body falls limp over the appendage before it flings him back. He somersaults through the air, his mind reeling just as much as his body, before he's blasted with a wave of energy that shoots his body back to the ground with such force he leaves a small crater. Pain explodes throughout his entire being as bones snap and his head whips back, hitting fractured rocks behind him. His lungs scream for air as he fights for breath, but his muscles won't cooperate. He can no longer see straight, his vision blurry, but he can make out the dragon turning back around with a dismissive flick of its tail, leaving him to die in the dirt.

Unable to even gasp properly, Acnologia is unable to make a sound in his agony. His broken bones are like jagged glass and each movement brings fresh waves of agony that flash white across his vision and bring bile to the back of his throat. All the while, his lungs continue to struggle for breath, his ribs protesting against his spasming diaphragm. _This is it, this is how I die,_ Acnologia admits to himself as his body jerks. He feels as though he's strangling, his chest burning as he spasms again in an effort to breathe. His throat opens slightly, allowing him to take in a partial breath that soothes his lungs even if it is only a tease. Black tendrils flutter around his peripheral vision as a chill creeps over him. There's no point in fighting it. The dragons decided to attack out of the blue and for no reason. If they want to kill them, there's no stopping them. They are helpless, and the dragons will see that none of them survive. A cough splutters past his lips as he smiles, blood smeared across his teeth as he looks up at the sky. Dragon after dragon pass by overhead, their deep exhales of breath heating the air around him and making him sweat, as they all but purr in satisfaction at their destruction. Around him, the screams slowly dwindle into whines and whimpers and occasional cries – some of which abruptly ended. The sky itself had been clear and blue only moments ago. Now it's dark – soot and debris obscuring the sun and pressing upon him like the blanket of death that's searching for him, calling him home for his final rest. He won't keep it waiting long.

* * *

It's nearly dark when he next opens his eyes, a sharp groan of pain immediately leaving his lips as his body comes awake with the rest of him. _How am I still alive?_ He knows to question such fortune after such havoc was wrecked upon his town. Each breath is pure white-hot agony, making him long for the sweet escape that is unconsciousness once more. Without adrenaline coursing through his system and numbing at least _some_ of his pain, he's slowly made aware of the numerous cuts and scrapes marring his own body, small streams of blood making their way down his arms and across his stomach from where he was caught by shrapnel. Would the dragons smell his blood and come for him? Might they hear his heartbeat and decide to finish him off? He knew it was possible, even with the numerous other dead and dying around him.

Rubble, dust, and debris contaminate the air around him, turning what once as crisp clean air, into something polluted and rotten. The scent of death hangs in the air, thick like a suffocating blanket in its sickly sweetness. What makes it even worse is knowing what that scent comes from, and that he _knows_ the sources. Those sources were once his friends, his family… Now there's no one left.

Tears sting his eyes as he listens to the cries around him continue to dwindle. He wants to move, but he'd also just as soon not. When the last whimper fades into nothing, he opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ to fill the sudden overwhelming silence, but nothing comes out. It's as though his throat closes down over the words, preventing them from leaving, which only makes his eyes sting more. _Am I all alone?_ He blinks, the tears finally spilling over and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks down his otherwise filthy skin. His breath hitches as a sob builds in his throat as overwhelming loneliness weighs upon him. _What just happened?_ Why _did the dragons attack?!_

He doesn't expect an answer, but when a white dragon floats across his vision above him, he cringes. Every instinct tells him to hide, but his body will not obey his commands. Tired and sore, he isn't sure he can so much as roll over, so he simply lies there as the dragon lazily drafts the air currents above him a moment, surveying the wasteland that had been his home. Should he call out? Get its attention so it can finish the job? He thinks about it, until the dragon's eyes land on him. Then, he wishes he could go back into hiding, even his insides quivering anxiously.

A moment later, the large white dragon lands beside him, so graceful she does not make a sound (he doesn't know how he knows it's a she, but he does). There's something in her gaze that immediately puts him at ease - her bright blue eyes are friendly and soft, caring even as she looks at him. Her eyes pierce his soul with such ease, Acnologia can't help but swallow nervously, brushing his hair out of his face without realizing he's smeared blood across his forehead in the process. She moves with total grace and silence as she approaches him, bowing her head low to look him in the eye. Her scales are smooth across her belly but resemble feathers along her back, rustling gently as she walks, and each small movement generates a gentle breeze that caresses Acnologia's injuries.

"You are hurt," she states, her voice like warm honey.

He's so taken with her, Acnologia doesn't even know what to say as he simply stares, his green eyes growing wide as she curls up at his side. An ethereal, soft blue glow surrounds him as she exhales, her breath warm and gentle as it washes over him and ruffles his hair. Almost immediately he can feel his wounds healing, the broken bones painfully realigning and knitting themselves back together. While breathing becomes easier, he feels a previously unknown sense of strength and purpose enter his body and firmly embed itself in his soul. His eyes, which had shut, open to gaze upon the white dragon curled at his side. Blue markings adorn her legs, ribs, back of her neck, and cheeks – much like they did on him. Her long claws gently grip the earth between them, as her eyes, a matching color of the blue on her skin, gaze down at him with an emotion he cannot read. He can't help but to be intimidated by her mere presence, let alone her fierce and unwavering gaze. Regardless, there is no sense of malice coming from her, the exact opposite of what he felt before.

"W-why are you helping me?" he asks, his voice soft and cracked from his dry throat.

The dragon smiles, bowing her head low so that they are at the same eye level. "Why wouldn't I help you?" she challenges, azure eyes sparkling.

"The others," he begins, already feeling weak from the _tiny_ amount of talking he's done.

"Were wrong," she answers easily.

His eyes narrow as he looks up at her from flat on his back. Can he trust a dragon after what just happened? "What happened?"

The dragon's expression changes then, flickering between sadness, remorse, anger, and frustration. "I am sorry you had to witness that," she whispers, lowering her head even more so that her nose is mere inches from him. Despite all he's been through, Acnologia finds himself wanting to touch it, wanting to rub the soft-looking nose before him. "That was a disagreement." Picking her head back up to normal height once more, the dragon indicates where he should look with her nose. "My comrades do not feel the same as the dragons from earlier."

Following her gaze, Acnologia gasps, which immediately earns another gasp from his pain. While many of his injuries are now healed, the broken bones are still mending themselves, as the soft glow surrounding him attests to. What surprises him, are the sheer number of dragons shifting through rubble, either searching for survivors or retrieving those that were lost. Those he sees are large and beautiful, clearly being led by the dragon that was bigger than them all – a red and white dragon with sharp angles nearly resembling horns along the back of his head. Other white dragons are among them, as well as a black dragon, one that appears metal, dragons that crackle with lightning or seem to ooze some sort of strange smoke; and yet others sparkle like stars, ripple like water or even shimmer and shine like ice.

"Would you care to join us?" the dragon offers, her voice gentle and soothing.

Acnologia blinks, his confusion evident when his green gaze returns to the dragon at his side. "What?"

"I can feel your pain. We can give you the strength you desire."

Swallowing, the young boy looks back to the other dragons before looking at the healing wounds covering his body. If it weren't for the dragons, none of this would have happened in the first place. Then again, if it also weren't for the dragons, he would be _dead_. Silent for several moments, he finally asks, "How?"

The dragon's lips pull back in a soft smile. "We make you a Dragon Slayer."

His brow furrowing, Acnologia's mind races, struggling to recall the term. "I-is that even possible?"

If possible, the dragon's smile grows even wider, somehow smug as she shifts her shoulders. It's an oddly human emotion and action that makes Acnologia feel he can trust the beast even more. "It is. You would not be alone."

There's no need to think, no need to worry and ponder over the risks and benefits. Acnologia's eyes snap to the dragon's and she's able to read his answer before he even says it. "I'll do it."

* * *

 _A/N: I have to admit that I don't know all that much about Acnologia's history and what I could find was pretty vague, so I took some liberties with this with some helpful insight from my teammates. I hope I did the story (and his past) justice and if I'm horribly inaccurate in any way, please feel free to point it out! I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I had to submit it before the deadline. I was more busy than I expected this week and didn't have as much time to work on it as I would have liked... As always, thoughts/reviews/comments are always appreciated!_

 _As always, I do not own Fairy Tail or any of the characters. They all belong to Hiro Mashima._


End file.
